


Dono, His Mark

by Zoya1416



Series: If Ever I Would Leave You [2]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: F/M, Romance, SPOILERS FOR ACC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya1416/pseuds/Zoya1416
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Council of Counts, Dono Vorrutyer is still finding his way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dono, His Mark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ollipop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollipop/gifts), [who wanted more Dono](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=who+wanted+more+Dono).



> I also appreciate surexit, over on the P.G.Wodehouse AO3, for a word. Surexit has a wonderful posting, "The Gradual Deflowering of Rupert Psmith," if you know that fandom.

“The prick's always been the most important qualification for a Countship, anyway. History says so.”

By chuckled. “Maybe they'll just let the prick vote. He made an X gesture down by his crotch and intoned solemnly, "Dono, his mark."

********

Dono Vorrutyer lead Olivia Koudelka into Vorrutyer House, swearing again because there was not enough light and the green-black granite steps were slippery from rain.

The cleaners had started on the house, but it still looked abandoned and decayed.  
They slowly mounted to the Count's bedroom on the third floor, the only part really livable.

Dono was silent today, not his usual chatty, dominating self. It was surprising, considering his recent triumph at the Council of Counts.

Olivia noticed. “What's wrong, Dono?”

“Besides bad memories, nothing. And I've told you all about them already.”

“So what's wrong today?”

Dono sighed, sat on a sofa, and motioned Olivia to sit down.

“Liv, you don't have to do this, you know, the whole getting married thing. Maybe it was just a reaction to those thugs.”

“No, Dono, I've always liked you. I care a lot more about you now, and I think that's a good start.”

Dono said wryly, “You don't love me?”

“I'm...finding out that I don't know how to think about you. Or us. We were friends, great friends, and then when you came back from Beta, you were amazing. It was so odd to see you with a beard, even though you explained what they did to you. So you are really a man, now, in all ways?”

“In all ways that should count, ha ha. I can sire the next generation of Vorrutyers. And I'd like to do it with you. I love you.”

“So there isn't anything of you left that's really like a woman, how you feel, or—did you always want women? You were with so many men.”

“Oh, you know, those crazy Vorrutyers. I had a lot of affairs with men, but, um, one night there were some aphrodisiacs going around that I didn't know about—I should have, have known there was something in the drinks. There were two women—everyone was very—drunk, at the time.” He forestalled her question. “And I'm not going to tell you about things which happened more than ten years ago. But it was those memories, not even real affairs, that the Beta doctors used to help change my psyche—my gender orientation, if you will.”

He shuddered. “I hate talking about it, really. It's..they didn't really have long enough to do it perfectly, so apparently I still have some very special sessions with some hypo-sprays and a good set of porno vids.”

“What!” Olivia exclaimed.

“The gender orientation thing—and I really need to complete this, Liv, for my wife, or I'll end up making her life miserable by marrying her for children, and keeping a male lover on the side. Anyway, I need to keep using these timed sprays, and these vids, until I completely start enjoying the male side. I do, mostly, now, but I just hate porno. I know many men do like it, but—not . Even the high dollar stuff, and Beta can do really high dollars—they wrecked my credit there, you know. But even then—I guess I wasn't born, either time, to be a voyeur.”

Olivia sat quietly for a minute, thinking.  
“Do you like the curtains in this room?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, did you like these curtains, or were you going to change them?”

The items in questions were florid red and purple roses, something awful which was now fraying.

“No, of course not. But what does this matter?”

Olivia smiled. “Go into the other room and wait. I'll call you.”

Fifteen minutes later, Dono re-entered the bedroom, to find Olivia had turned the lights down low and was wearing purple and red swathed around her. She had left her shoulders bare, and was barefoot as well. She motioned Dono to the couch. When she turned her back to Dono, the long curtain material acted as a train; a good use for it, he thought.

Then she began to move. All the Koudelkas could move easily, as they were fit and athletic—Olivia was the one who'd been interested in dancing. But it appeared that she'd learned more than the correct sequences for the Emperor's Birthday dances.

She dropped the curtain half way down her spine and began swaying slowly, humming a tune Dono didn't know but immediately wanted to learn. Down, down, came her curtain, and now only barely covered her beautiful hips. Dono growled and started to get up.

“No, sit there.” Olivia commanded. 

She rolled her hips for a bit more, then dropped the remainder of the curtain, giving Dono a view of her perfectly nude back, and quickly dowsed the room lights. When they came back on, she'd taken the curtain lining, a fine white cloth, and tacked it to bookcases on either side of the room. Another light flared, showing her silhouette through the cloth, and he could tell she was completely nude. 

She continued to dance slowly, still humming a tune which was becoming maddening, and slowly pivoting so that he caught a shadow-sight of a perfect shoulder, an arched back with round breasts pointing skyward, long hair falling down, arms swaying, a curved body sliding around, dear God, now she was standing with her legs apart, hands and arms outstretched on high.

He found his breathing very hard and had an urgent need to go to her. He moved partway off the couch. He was beginning to ache in a very specific way.

She heard him. “No. Stay there.” she demanded. The lights went out again, and at their second reappearance she stood before him, with the white curtain liner only partially draped, naked, sweating, swaying. She was holding out her hand to keep him in place. 

He bit his lip and shuddered, not quite sure how he was going to keep from reaching out. He found his hand was at his groin, fingers closing over his length and his hand moving up and down. He was flushed and dangerously off balance. He began to rock forward and backward, to her humming, which he noticed had become quite fast. And then she began to touch herself—caressing her own cheek, neck, shoulders, slowly over and around each beautiful breast, caressing her nipples, reaching downward, downward—it was too much. He had never desired anything like he did this woman. He rose, grabbed her, and tumbled her to the floor, where they lay on the curtains.

He held her face in both his hands, kissing her, trying to force calmness into his body, breathing so fast he was dizzy. His hands trembled. 

“God, Olivia, God, get me out of these clothes,” he groaned, and she quickly reached for his tunic belt.

He realized he could not wait, and hastily unzipped his pants, shoving them down partway, and entered her warm, warm, moist body. It was over too quickly and he was embarrassed.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn't have time to take care of you, God, I'm a mess.”

“Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay.”

He rolled to his back and closed his eyes. She pulled off his tunic, boots, trousers, all, stripping him as naked as she was. Then she lay down next to him and pulled a curtain over.

They rested for awhile.

Olivia spoke, “ You were saying something about not wanting to watch?”

“Not those films, no. But you—you—I want to watch. Over and over and over.”

He got some control back, and his good humor began to surface.

“You deflowered me, y' know?”

She rolled up on one elbow, quizzical.

“Old Earth term, really old. It meant to take someone's virginity.”

“Dono, you are not serious! You haven't been virgin for-”

“Donna, yes, she was married and had affairs.” He rolled over to her and she gently stroked his chest. “But Dono was new. And you took him.” He shook his head, sadly. “I so much wanted to be a virgin when I got married this time. I was saving myself for my wedding night.” He sighed mournfully. “It's all your fault.”

She reached up to the couch, pulled off a cushion, and tried to smother him.


End file.
